


Sammy's First Words

by Stark_on_the_Iron_Throne (Keepcalmanddontgetangry)



Series: Sammy's First... [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childhood, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Gen, One Shot, Parenthood, Single Parents, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keepcalmanddontgetangry/pseuds/Stark_on_the_Iron_Throne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sammy's learnt his first word. Much to the disappointment of John it is not "Dada".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sammy's First Words

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not making any profit from posting this Fanfiction. I do not own any of the characters.

“Dean! Did he just--Dean did your brother just say something? Dean, did Sammy talk?” John said, sprinting from the motel bathroom to the bedroom, towel held clumsily in place around his waist.

He had been in the shower (which he’d had the sense to turn off first), trying to keep himself awake long enough to put the boys to bed, when he’d overheard them talking to each other. It was common for Sam to babble on and on in his own little baby language, and Dean was all for humouring him by talking back, pretending to know what he was saying, but this was the first time John had heard an actual word come out of his youngest son’s mouth.

“Dean?” he asked, crouching down in front of the boy to shake him a little. It wouldn’t be any use, Dean hadn’t said a word to anyone but Sam since it had happened. John had been trying to get him to talk, he really had, but so far it had been no use. “Did Sammy say something?” He loosened his grip, eyes softening, and tried again. “Dean. Son. Did your little brother speak? I didn’t mean to give you a fright, I’m not mad. This is a good thing. A really good thing. Did Sammy talk?”

“Dee!” came the screechingly happy voice of Sammy from his high chair.

John shot up, looking towards his son. His boy was reaching his chubby little arms over the side of his chair towards Dean. Sammy paid no attention to John, only concerned with what his older brother was doing.

“Dee! Dee! Deeee!” he screamed, giggling, his little arms waving until Dean finally gave in and picked him up out of his chair, holding him tightly. John noticed, with a surge of happiness, a small smile appear on his eldest sons lips as his brother wiggled in his arms, shrieking, “Dee! Dee! Dee! Dee!”

John stepped back, looking down at the display. His mouth smiled but his eyes were sad. Of course Sammy’s first words would be for Dean and not him. It was all a part of what John had been pushing for, after all: Dean had to be there for Sam. Sam was as much of Dean’s responsibility as he was John’s, and soon he would have to be more while John wasn’t there. There was so much to learn. The cloth that had covered his eyes had been lifted, and what it revealed was so much worse than John could ever imagine. His boys had to be there for each other. He couldn’t always be around. With that came these sorts of sacrifices. He could never be the father to Sam that he had wanted to be, damnit he had known that already? But this still cut him in the same way that it would have with any other father.

“Sammy,” John said, kneeling down next to his boys again, “hey, Sammy. Can you say Dada? Dada.”

That had been Dean’s first word. Dada. Followed quickly by “no” and “more”. John remembered having Dean sit on his knee at the breakfast table, a healthy two year old with fluffy hair, sparkling eyes and a boyish smile, asking for more spoonfuls of John’s cereal while he tried to eat it. The memory was touching, and it was something John rarely looked back on. Looking back too often could get dangerous. Sentiment lead to weakness and John couldn’t show any weakness. Not in front of his boys. Not ever.

“Say Dada, Sammy. Come on, son,” John tried, ruffling his youngest son’s hair as he looked up at him with his big brown eyes. He didn’t keep Sam’s attention that long as he soon went back to grinning at Dean.

“Dee!” Sam cheered, and then sneezed. He rubbed his nose into Dean’s shirt, who didn’t seem too pleased with this treatment but didn’t bat an eyelid at, and then laughed while pulling at his brother’s hair. John took it as some sort of sign of affection. Nevertheless, he took Sam out of his brother’s arms to relieve him of the play. He sighed, putting his free hand on the back of his other son’s head as the boy grabbed hold of his leg.

“Dean,” John corrected Sam, rubbing their noses together, “Dean.” He chuckled, sitting down on the motel bed. Dean climbed onto his lap and put a hand on Sammy’s back. “He’ll get it eventually,” John said, glad to be able to hold both his boys at the same time, “now that he’s started he won’t ever shut up, trust me, kid.”

John kissed the top of Dean’s head as his son nodded, rubbing his brother’s back and smiling. Sammy caught his older brother’s eye, seeming to figure out where that nice feeling on his back was coming from, and giggled. John held his boys that bit tighter. Moments like this were rare and he savoured every last second of them. It would soon be time to put the boys to bed and then continue reading up on what might be in this town (his own notes were coming along nicely), but for the moment John felt no rush. Time was precious when it came to a hunt, he knew that. However, time with his boys was important.


End file.
